


Waiting

by ddelusionall



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Dom/sub, First Kiss, First Time, Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Slave, Orgasm Control, Past Abuse, Underage Sex, descriptions of abuse related injuries, don't come at me, it happens when they're both underage and in high school, that happens as part of the story and it's not bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23929576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: People sometimes ask me when I first met Master. I tell them I don’t know because I can’t remember my past lives. That is what it feels like when I look at Master.
Relationships: Kim Junsu (JYJ)/Park Yoochun
Kudos: 1





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

People sometimes ask me when I first met Master. I tell them I don’t know because I can’t remember my past lives. That is what it feels like when I look at Master. I’ve known him for longer than my nineteen years in this lifetime.

People sometimes ask why I wear cuffs on my wrists. I tell them it’s because I remember everything Master has ever done for me. They remind me of the promise I made to Master whenever I look at them. I’ve belonged to him for ten of the nineteen years in this lifetime. And I’ll belong to him for the rest of this lifetime.

I only say that it’s been ten of the last nineteen years because I can’t really remember anything before that. Yes, Master was part of my life, but it wasn’t until I was nine years old that I called him _My hyung_ and _My only hyung_.

And he called me _my only dongsaeng_.

Both were lies, of course. I have a twin brother who is older than me, and he has a younger brother, but to each other, there was only each of us. I was closer in age to his younger brother. But it didn’t matter. I can’t tell you why we grew so close so fast. Part of it was that my twin, Junho, had baseball practice after school, and Master came to watch me, and he didn’t care if I curled up into his lap during the scary parts of movies, or during the funny parts, or during any of the parts. Part of it was that our bedrooms faced each other so when I had problems I would flash my lights and Master would open his window and I would open mine and we would talk.

By the time I was thirteen, I knew that my life would never be complete without Master in it.

  
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**\---Fourteen---**

Fighting off a yawn, Junsu mumbled, “Happy Birthday, hyung.”

Yoochun smiled down at him, tightened his hold around Junsu’s shoulder. “Thanks, dongsaeng.”

“Did you get a lot of presents?” Junsu asked, burrowing deeper into Yoochun’s hold.

“Yeah. I got a lot of CDs. I’ll bring them over on Saturday and we’ll listen to them.”

“All day?”

“Yep.”

Junsu bit his lip and turned his head away from Yoochun’s body and met his hyung’s eyes. Yoochun was watching him, smiling.

Junsu blushed and stammered, “I-I … I have a present for you.”

Yoochun’s smile widened. “What? Where is it?”

Junsu took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“Of course I’ll like it. It’s from you!”

Junsu smiled and sat up. His butt was between the arm of the couch and Yoochun’s legs, and his own legs were thrown over Yoochun’s thighs.

“Promise you won’t hate it?”

“I won’t hate it,” Yoochun said.

Junsu shut his eyes and put his arms around Yoochun’s neck. His hyung stiffened, and Junsu panicked and wanted to let go, but he didn’t, and his eyes opened and Yoochun’s were narrowed, mouth set in a frown.

“Junsu,” Yoochun said, voice cautionary.

Junsu swallowed deeply and before he could talk himself out of it, or before Yoochun could move, he darted forward and pressed his lips to Yoochun’s, holding the pathetic excuse for a kiss for only four seconds. Yoochun did not respond, and Junsu pulled away, lowering his head. His cheeks reddened as the silence stretched.

“Dongsaeng.”

Junsu bit his lip and muttered, “I-I wanted you to have my first kiss.”

The silence continued and Junsu let Yoochun go and tried to curl up on himself in shame.

Yoochun moved, gripping his elbows. “Look at me.”

Junsu obeyed, eyes blurry with tears from the rejection.

“Your first kiss?”

Junsu nodded.

“Explain.”

“You-you told me about kissing Sooyeon and then about kissing Jaejoong, and I just … I’ll probably kiss other people, but …”

Yoochun smiled. “You wanted me to have your first kiss?”

Junsu nodded. “It was a lame present. Sorry. I’ll—“

Yoochun shut him up with his lips, holding Junsu’s lips and his startled gaze for a lot longer than four seconds.

Junsu’s blush deepened and he quickly ducked his head again.

Yoochun kissed his cheek, arms twisting around Junsu’s waist. With lips against his ear, Yoochun whispered, “It’s the perfect present. The best one I’ve ever gotten.”

Junsu smiled, heart hammering from relief.

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People sometimes ask me why I don’t get a job. I always tell them that I have a job, just not one that I need to get paid for. When they ask what kind of job, I usually smile and say something non-committal about helping Master. Master is an up-and-coming song writer. I sing the things he writes before he sells them. So it’s never a lie when I say that I help him.

Master is insanely talented. A lot of songwriters can’t survive on the money they make writing songs. Master can. He’s collaborated with a lot of pop artists, he’s written commercial jingles and he’s writing a full-length musical.

I help him. I belong to him. I do whatever Master wants me to do.

  
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**\---Fifteen---**

Yoochun’s fingers tightened in Junsu’s hair. He cut off his moan and yanked, and Junsu tried not to smile. The pain was worth it. It wasn’t the first time that Junsu had sucked on Yoochun’s cock, but it would be the first for something. And Junsu had to wait.

He ran his tongue around the head of Yoochun’s cock when it was mostly out of his mouth. He reached up and gripped the base, stroking a few times before sliding his mouth down with his hand, sucking enough to pull another moan from Yoochun’s throat.

His knees ached. His mouth ached. His throat ached from the few times Yoochun had lost control.

But his hyung was almost done.

“Su-ah, Su … wait … I’m—oh god.”

Junsu internally smirked. He ignored the warning pulls on his hair and slammed his head down faster, taking Yoochun deeper, quicker, wetter. His hyung’s cock pulsed and then twitched and Yoochun’s hips rose over and over again, muscles tightening. With another moan of Junsu’s name, he came, and Junsu gagged on the sudden heavy load of semen in his mouth. He fought against the urge to pull away and swallowed it, slowing his movements, but sucking Yoochun through his orgasm. He used his hand again to pump Yoochun’s cock and tongued the slit for the last few drops.

With lips against the pliant head, Junsu whispered, “Happy birthday, hyung.”

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People sometimes ask me why I don’t buy more stylish clothes. I always tell them that I buy clothes for comfort. Which is only partially the truth. I used to buy more stylish clothes. Or at least, Master used to buy me more stylish clothes. But he gets a bit violent when I have clothes on. He can’t wait to get me naked, and he ends up ripping them off me.

I do have nice clothes, but they are only taken out of the closet when Master takes me out to some gala or another for the release of a song. I have some very nice suits that are tailored just for me. And Master can’t keep his hands off my ass when I wear them.

Then again, he can’t keep his hands off my ass when I’m in scraggly looking clothes either. I don’t mind jeans and a t-shirt when I go out for groceries (or lubricant and toys). They’re easy to get out of, easy to get ready for Master. 

  
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**\---Sixteen---**

Junsu squirmed on his hyung’s bed. “Yoochun-hyung,” he whined.

Yoochun took a deep breath.

“Five minutes,” Junsu said and pouted.

Yoochun looked over and smiled at the pout. “It won’t be for five minutes.”

“Come on, your birthday is tomorrow and then your test is the next day and I’m not going to get to see you before then.”

Yoochun sighed and shut the screen on his laptop.

Junsu crowed in victory, and Yoochun glared at him. “This is important, Su-ah, and you’re distracting me.”

Junsu swallowed. He really did hate to upset his hyung. He couldn’t remember the last time he did. With a steadying breath, Junsu whispered an apology and rolled to his side to get up.

“Oh no,” Yoochun said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. He maneuvered Junsu underneath him, legs spread over his hips. “You can’t pull that pout on me and then go away without me trying to make you smile.”

Junsu smiled and hooked his arms around Yoochun’s neck. “You always make me smile, hyung.”

Yoochun pressed their lips together, shaking slightly. Junsu wasted no time with pleasantries and opened his mouth with a moan. Yoochun’s tongue slid over his, into his mouth. Junsu still couldn’t understand why that felt so good. His eyes shut with a ruffled sigh, and he let Yoochun kiss him. One hand ran up and into his hair and the other went down his chest, unbuttoning his school shirt, fingers reaching for skin under the tank top.

Yoochun was right: it was longer than five minutes. Junsu didn’t know how long, but when Yoochun finally stopped kissing him. Junsu’s shirt was unbuttoned, his tank top pushed up and his belt and pants unfastened. Yoochun stopped kissing him only long enough to tug Junsu’s pants and boxers off. His fingers curled around Junsu’s erection and Junsu whimpered, hips rising.

“How fast are you going to come?” Yoochun whispered.

Junsu bit his lip and said, “Not … not very.”

“Why not?”

“I … hm, hyung, that feels good.”

“Why not?” Yoochun asked again, tightening his grip. Junsu gasped, hips rising, hands clawing at Yoochun’s sweater.

“I … before … I came.”

“You stroked yourself off before you came over here?”

Junsu nodded.

“Why?”

“I … I … always come … oh god, hyung.”

“I like it when you come fast,” Yoochun said, letting his lips hover over Junsu’s. Junsu begged for a kiss with little whimpers, and Yoochun slowed his strokes on his cock. “I like it when you come fast because I can make you come more than once. Usually what, three times?”

Junsu moaned and nodded.

“You took away one of those times from me, dongsaeng.”

Junsu gasped out an apology and lifted his butt off the bed, fucking the loose hold Yoochun had on his dick.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t, god I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Junsu nodded desperately. He was so close to coming. Just a few more.

“Say it!”

Junsu whimpered and gasped, “I won’t come without you. I won’t. I won’t come unless you make me.”

“Good,” Yoochun said, voice lower than a growl. He slammed their lips together again, twisted his hand in the best way and Junsu screamed into his mouth and after only two more pumps of his hyung’s hand he was coming, splattering come up onto his tank top and over his bare stomach.

Junsu felt like he’d fallen from the room, breath wheezing, body shaking.

Yoochun kissed down his neck and was able to pull the rest of Junsu’s clothes off his malleable body. He used Junsu’s tank top to wipe up the come on his skin.

Lying naked under his fully clothed hyung was one of Junsu’s favorite things. He smiled and lifted an arm, hooking it around Yoochun’s neck. Yoochun kissed his lips and then headed back down his body.

“Hyung?” Junsu said, voice cracking because that was the same moment that Yoochun started licking a nipple.

“Hm,” Yoochun hummed into his skin.

“I … It’s not your birthday yet, but can I give you your present anyway?”

Yoochun lifted his head and pondered Junsu for a moment. Junsu blushed and rubbed his chest with his arms.

“What are you going to give me?”

Junsu swallowed nervously and then lifted his arms above his head. He twisted his body, rolling to his stomach and Yoochun scooted back enough to give him room. Junsu tucked his knees under his body and then spread them, opening himself up.

Yoochun’s breath caught, and Junsu knew that his hyung saw that his body was glistening, slick with lube.

“This is why I had to stroke myself off before I came over,” Junsu said, head turned. He watched Yoochun’s eyes. They widened and then narrowed, and took on this dark look that Junsu loved.

“Happy birthday, hyung,” Junsu whispered.

Yoochun actually growled and a second later, two of his fingers were pressing into Junsu’s body. Junsu shut his eyes and moaned, legs spreading further. He kept a grip on the pillow. It wasn’t the first time Yoochun had fingered him, but it was only to get Junsu off. Junsu loved fingers inside him while Yoochun sucked on him or stroked him to completion.

Yoochun twisted his fingers, spreading them, crooking them and then pulling them out. He spread Junsu’s ass with the other hand and the pressed three fingers into him. They went deeper than Junsu could reach with his own fingers, but it felt so so so good. His cock was already dripping again.

Sex would hurt, Junsu knew that, but it was important that Yoochun have his virginity. He had everything else that Junsu could possibly give him.

Yoochun moved away from him for only long enough to grab a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. His hands shook as he covered his erection. He hadn’t bothered to take off his jeans, just unbuttoned them and pulled out his cock. Junsu didn’t mind at all.

Yoochun spread Junsu’s ass again, and Junsu sighed and relaxed as much as he could. His body was clenching in anticipation no matter what he did. From the day that Yoochun told him that sex between two guys was possible, Junsu wanted him. Wanted Yoochun to fuck him.

The head of his cock pressed against his body and Junsu tensed, wincing at the breach.

Yoochun ran his hand up and down Junsu’s spine, whispering at him to relax and calm down.

It didn’t matter if it hurt. This was for his hyung. Junsu shut his eyes and tried to relax. Yoochun moaned, pressing further and Junsu whimpered when he breeched the tight muscles. It was so uncomfortable and painful. Worse than the first time Yoochun had used his fingers. Taking even breaths, Junsu opened his eyes. He didn’t hide the pain, but he smiled and said, “More, hyung, more. I want to feel you against and inside me.”

Yoochun moaned, eyes shutting and his hips jerked forward and Junsu bit his lip against a cry of pain and Yoochun pulled out and pushed back in and then again and his jeans were harsh against Junsu’s skin, but they were pressed together and he could feel Yoochun so deep inside him that he thought that was why he was having trouble swallowing.

Yoochun moaned again, hips rolling and then pulling out completely.

Junsu gasped in protest and Yoochun chuckled. “Just need more lube, baby. Hang on.”

Junsu loved it when Yoochun called him baby.

Junsu used this time to relax and take a few deep breaths. His back and ass were throbbing a little, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t bear to make his hyung happy.

A moment later, Yoochun pressed back inside him, moaning, and Junsu moaned at the stretch. Yoochun did not pause, thrusting slowly, firmly. Junsu concentrated on the spot that Yoochun clutched his hips, where his nails were digging into his skin. Marking him. Claiming him.

Yoochun ran his hand up Junsu’s spine and into his hair, tugging lightly. “Hurt, dongsaeng?”

Junsu nodded, because he knew better than to lie to his hyung.

“How much?”

Junsu winced and really felt the pain of being stretched and being prodded so deeply. “A lot.”

“You’re not hard.”

Junsu shook his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“It’s okay this time.”

Junsu nodded and whispered a thanks. Yoochun’s thrusts hadn’t faltered and Junsu was able to concentrate on the tugs to his hair, and the nails now in his side, curled around his ribs.

“Fuck, your body is tight, baby.”

Yoochun sped up, just enough to pull a surprised yelp from Junsu’s mouth, and that noise seemed to make him go even faster, and Junsu remembered that Yoochun loved the noises he made, the whimpers and moans of pleasure. He couldn’t make those now, but wondered if the whimpers of pain would do the same thing. So Junsu stopped trying to be quiet and he moaned and whimpered and gasped when it hurt. He cried out his hyung’s name when Yoochun went even faster, slapping his body roughly against Junsu’s, the zipper digging into his skin. Concentrating on the feel, on the sex, it hurt more than Junsu was expecting. And he screamed a few times and his hyung countered the pain with whispered and gasped and moaned praises.

His body slowed and jerked forward a few more times, cock twitching deep inside Junsu’s body. He gasped Junsu’s name as he emptied his orgasm into Junsu’s torn channel. And then he collapsed, falling sated and heavy onto Junsu’s back.

Junsu didn’t mind. He loved it when his hyung fell asleep over him, safely cocooned in his warmth and body.

Yoochun lay there, gasping in his ear for a few long minutes. With a deep moan, he rolled his hips and his dick squelched in and out of Junsu’s body.

Junsu winced.

“How sore are you?” Yoochun whispered.

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

Yoochun stayed pressed against him, hips moving, their lips and tongues tangled in a kiss while Yoochun fucked him again until he added even more come inside Junsu’s body.

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People sometimes ask me what I do all day. I usually reply that I take care of Master and the house. I don’t have a job, so I cook and clean and make sure I’m ready for Master when he comes home. They don’t need to know what that means. They don’t usually ask. They smirk and make fun of me and call me Master’s wife. But giving Master a baby is the last thing that I have yet to do for him. And I can’t do that in this life. Maybe the next one I will be born into a woman’s body and then I can give Master a baby.

Until then, I don’t mind preparing dinner and then kneeling next to the table until Master comes home.

  
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**\---Seventeen---**

“Junsu!”

Yoochun caught Junsu as he swayed and fell into his arms. Junsu smiled and barely saw his lover’s face through eyes blurred from blood.

Yoochun pulled him into his dorm room and shut the door, locking it. He dragged Junsu to the bathroom and asked no questions, but talked to Junsu to keep him awake until he could figure out what all of his injuries were.

His face was beaten badly. Broken nose, missing teeth, bruises, black eyes, split lip. There was a nasty bump on his head that was bleeding. A cut on his arm and chest and more bruises all down his arms and legs. His fingers looked broken.

“Oh, baby,” Yoochun whispered, kissing a clean and bruise free spot on his cheek.

“They …” Junsu coughed and spit out blood. “They said I was bad.”

Yoochun’s heart clenched and he shook his head. “You aren’t bad, baby.”

“I know.”

“Stay right here. I’ll be back in less than a minute.”

Junsu tried to clutch onto Yoochun’s shirt.

Yoochun smiled and pressed a kiss to Junsu’s lips. “Do you trust me, baby?”

“Yes, of course, I do. I do.”

“Then wait. Just a minute.”

Junsu swallowed the rising panic and then nodded. Yoochun rose and Junsu leaned his head back on the cupboard, trying not to relive the beating his father had given him.

_I only have one son. You’re a disgrace to the Lord and to this family._

Junsu’s chest tightened and tears dripped from his eyes. God, even crying hurt.

Yoochun returned with a glass of water and a pill. “Can you swallow this, baby?”

Junsu nodded. He took a drink of water first to make sure he wouldn’t throw up and then down the pill.

Yoochun filled the tub with water and helped Junsu climb in. Yoochun washed him free of blood and grime, and Junsu was pleasantly numb by the end of the bath. Yoochun smiled and whispered love at him that Junsu had always known.

“I’ll take care of you.”

Junsu nodded.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” Junsu whispered, smiling and slightly loopy from the medication.

Yoochun laughed. He stood up, clothes wet, and then helped Junsu stand, but only long enough to throw a robe around him. Yoochun braced them both and then lifted Junsu up.

Junsu’s eyes shut as a stubborn jolt of pain went up his spin.

Yoochun apologized and carried him into the bedroom and settled him on the bed. Before his eyes shut, Junsu whispered, “You always know the best way to take care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

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People sometimes ask me if Master and I are lovers. I always smile and say maybe. They glare at me after that, or they make a disgusted noise and call us immoral. If they only knew that we were so much more than that. Korea is still pretty conservative and being gay is definitely frowned upon. Master doesn’t tell his co-workers about me all the time; he sometimes loses jobs because people find out about his relationship with me. He says it doesn’t bother him, because there are people in other countries who will work with him instead. He’s really good at speaking English.

I’m so proud of Master, because he isn’t ashamed of what we have. He isn’t ashamed of me and I do my best to be the best slave that I can be. I’ve always belonged to him.

  
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**\---Eighteen---**

Yoochun sold his first song before he was done with college. He sold his second song right after he graduated. He and Junsu moved in together, and Junsu transferred schools to finish high school. He knew that he wouldn’t go to college. He did not sit for the exams, the ones that had caused Yoochun so much stress.

Instead, on that day, which had fallen on Yoochun’s birthday, Junsu printed out something he’d been working on. He’d done his research and he’d made a few minor changes to what he’d found until he was happy with it. Junsu knew how to erase the browser history on Yoochun’s so Yoochun wouldn’t find out what he was doing. When Yoochun noticed and asked, Junsu said it was about his birthday present, and Yoochun had smiled and let it go.

Junsu presented it to Yoochun, in a legal looking folder that was dark blue.

Yoochun tilted his head in question.

Junsu only smiled and said, “I know that it can’t be official, but between us … well, between us, it’s always been official.”

Yoochun’s brow furrowed and he opened the folder. Junsu watched, amused, as Yoochun’s eyes grew wider and wider as he read through the contract.

“Junsu,” Yoochun said, voice rising in disbelief.

Junsu smiled and dropped to his knees and whispered, “Yes, Master?”

Yoochun stuttered, unable to make any coherent noises.

Junsu kept his head lowered and said, “I’ve always belonged to you, Master.”

Yoochun dropped the contract to the floor, and pulled Junsu up to the couch, their lips slammed together and Yoochun wrapped his arms around his waist.

“This … you can’t …”

Junsu shook his head. “I can. I want to. Please accept me, Master, please.”

Yoochun swallowed and then said, “I won’t call you slave. I won’t.”

“You don’t have to. What do you want to call me?”

“You’ve always been my Su-ah. Or my baby.”

Junsu smiled. “Okay. Do you want me to call you something besides Master?”

Yoochun opened his mouth, and then shut it, growling. “Say it again.”

“Master,” Junsu whispered.

Yoochun groaned. Their lips met savagely again.

Junsu smiled and managed to say, “Happy birthday, Master,” before Yoochun tossed him to the couch and Junsu cried out “Master” over the next few hours until his voice was hoarse.

http://lifeofaslave.org/personal/contract.php (THIS LINK IS NSFW)

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People sometimes ask me if I hate my life. I always smile and say no. I live with the man of my dreams. I live with someone who loves me and worships me and takes care of me. I get to love and worship and take care of him in return. How can I hate that?

I’m impatient though. I’ve grown used to being impatient. Sometimes Master doesn’t come straight home from work. Sometimes he has meetings. But I wait for him, because it’s what I want to do.

Today, I’ve chosen to wait for him in the bedroom. I am kneeling next to the bed. My place until Master says I can join him in our bed. But he has not left me there with nothing to do. I am prepared as Master wants me, wearing a long t-shirt (light green today) and nothing else. I am sitting on the floor, a dildo inside me. I am allowed to fuck myself on it, I am allowed to tease myself, but I am not allowed to come.

I have not come without my Master’s permission since I was sixteen years old.

My skin is damp with sweat. My cock is tenting the shirt, soaking it with precome. I am unsure how long I have been here.

The light in the windows is dimming. It must be close to eight.

All my senses are sharpened when I am like this, on the verge of coming, waiting for Master. I hear the door open, so far away. I hear Master drop his bag and kick off his shoes. He does not call out for me, because there is no way that I will not be here when he comes home. I will not want to be anywhere else.

I track his soft footsteps to the kitchen where I left out dinner and the chair scrapes across the floor. He will eat, and he will take a shower. He will not come and find me until he needs me. Cruel, some may think, but it is what I want. If I waited for him by the door, we would be kissing now, or touching or anything at this point. If I waited for him in the kitchen, he would have bent me over the counter. If I waited for him in the bathroom, then he’d slowly run his hands on me while we bathed together until he let me come.

But I chose the bedroom. And I will wait for Master, because I want to wait for Master.  
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End file.
